


Beat Like Mine

by longleggedgit



Series: Beat Like Mine [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Future Fic, M/M, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 03:37:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4650786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longleggedgit/pseuds/longleggedgit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During their second year of university, Hinata studies abroad, Kageyama stays behind, and everything is wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beat Like Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much, as always, to Traci for cheerleading and betaing this <3 
> 
> Title comes from the [lovely song of the same name](https://youtu.be/_2biI3G0CNU) by Lucy Michelle.

It's 2:54 p.m. on Saturday, which means Hinata has been back in the country for 22 minutes. Kageyama slips his phone into his pocket and stands up to get some water before realizing there's a full glass on his bedside table. He takes a swig, pulls his phone out again, and rereads his message history with Sugawara for what is not the first time that day. 

_Hi Kageyama. Long time no see! Are you coming home at all for the summer break?_

_Yes. I'll be at Karasuno next Monday. Takeda-Sensei asked me to stop by._

_Good, I'll see you there. By the way, did you know Hinata will be coming back as well?_

Kageyama hadn't known. 

_Oh,_ he'd managed in response. Sugawara then sent him a screenshot of Hinata's full travel itinerary, which Kageyama never responded to but still memorized. 2:32 p.m. Saturday, Hinata arrives at Narita airport. 8:37 p.m., Hinata's train arrives in Sendai. Eight days later, Hinata flies back to the U.S. out of Narita at 1:10 p.m.

Kageyama hasn't talked to Hinata in six months.

He tries to start packing a bag for his trip home—tomorrow, Tokyo Station to Sendai, 10 a.m.—but keeps getting distracted, clothes sitting unfolded in his hands for minutes on end before he remembers what to do with them. 

When his phone buzzes with a new message, Kageyama lets the shirt in his hands drop to the floor in his hurry to read it.

 _See you Monday then, right?_ Sugawara prompts. _In the gym?_

Disappointment makes Kageyama's mouth taste bitter. _Right,_ he keys back, and even though he puts his phone on Do Not Disturb after that, he still checks it every fifteen minutes.

 

Kageyama has been back to Karasuno a few times since graduating, but this will be the first time he's gone without Hinata. Takeda and Ukai have asked them back during every university vacation since they graduated, mostly to help out with basic exercises and techniques for the new volleyball members but also occasionally, Kageyama thinks, to frighten them. 

He remembers vividly walking into the gym for the first time as a university student and noticing how tiny the high school team seemed suddenly, even those he had been playing with until the end of his third year. Hinata had delightedly teased the two members he had somehow outgrown, and when they'd first showed off their quick attack, new and improved thanks to an intensive university sports club regimen, they'd actually received a gym-wide round of applause. 

"Looking good, you two," Ukai had said, prompting Hinata to beam directly at Kageyama, his smile so bright Kageyama had to turn down his eyes.

"Looking good, Kageyama!" A ball comes flying at his chest and Kageyama catches it, unsteadily. Ukai grins from beside the ball basket and Takeda, just behind him, waves enthusiastically.

"How's Tokyo?" Ukai asks.

"How's school?" Takeda adds. "Are you studying hard?"

Kageyama squeezes the ball in his hands, testing its resistance. "It's fine. School's fine. I'm—not doing bad."

Takeda smiles like he knows exactly what Kageyama's evasive answer means, but thankfully doesn't push him. Maybe he's figured out by now that the only way Kageyama is going to be having any major impact on the world is through sports, not studies.

"These freshmen are already complaining that they have practice and a training camp over summer vacation," Ukai tells him, walking forward to clap Kageyama on the back. "Think you can help inspire them a little?"

"I'll do my best," Kageyama mutters. As if on cue, a few students Kageyama has never seen before, presumably freshmen, enter the gym, laughing loudly at something they seem to forget about as soon as they spot Kageyama.

"Is he—Kageyama-Senpai?" one of them asks, in an almost-whisper that's still too loud. "Isn't he the one who plays at Yudai?"

"But then where's Hinata-Senpai?"

Despite his best efforts, Kageyama's shoulders stiffen.

"Kageyama has been nice enough to come here on his vacation and try to help you clean up your sloppy plays," Ukai announces in his loudest Coach voice. "Be sure to pay attention and do exactly as he tells you today!"

The remaining volleyball team members file in shortly after the freshmen, most unfamiliar to Kageyama, and Ukai asks him to start out serving. Just as Kageyama suspected, the newer students are mostly terrified to receive for him, and this only seems to give Ukai more ammunition for yelling.

"How do you think you're going to beat Nekoma if you can't even send back one of Kageyama's serves, huh? Kageyama, don't hold back this time!"

Kageyama serves over and over. He doesn't even have to think about it with opponents this timid, so he lets his mind wander, traveling across the gym, tracing it in his memory. There's still a dark smudge on the wall under the window from where Hinata kicked it once after a disappointing match, and the crack in the basketball hoop backboard from when Hinata served a particularly terrible ball is still there, too. The corner near the door where Hinata used to drop his bag before practice, forgetting in his excitement to play that he should bring his things to the clubroom, now contains a stack of folded-up gym mats. 

He ponders the purpose of the mats as he hits his fourteenth ball, maybe fifteenth, expecting another service ace, but is jolted out of his daydreaming when one of the freshmen, out of either luck or last-ditch desperation, finally manages to catch it in a receive solid enough to send it back over the net.

"Free ball!" Ukai yells, and Kageyama, on instinct, prepares himself. He's the only person on his side of the net, but the ball is so high and slow it's no problem to situate himself underneath it in time, ready to send it back. At the exact moment that he finds his footing, a voice calls out from his right, jarringly loud and familiar.

"TO ME!"

All the blood rushes to Kageyama's ears at once, pounding furiously. He can't hear anything but the beat of his pulse, but that doesn't stop him from twisting in place—almost too sharp, almost enough to do damage to his foot—and readjusting his hands for a toss. He closes his eyes, his fingers find the ball, and swiftly, precisely, he sends it backwards, over his head, exactly where it needs to be. There's no question in his mind that it will arrive in the right spot.

He hears the result before he can force his eyes open to see it: The satisfying _WHAM_ of the ball far away from his side of the court, followed by a heavy silence, and finally clapping, growing stronger by the second, until it's louder even than the pounding in Kageyama's ears. All his breath lets out in a shaky rush.

Hinata is watching him when Kageyama turns around. Their eyes lock, and Hinata takes two steps forward, burning with an intensity that isn't quite what Kageyama remembers, before jerking to an abrupt stop.

"That," comes Ukai's voice, making Kageyama jolt a little, "was an excellent quick."

They wait for the clapping to die out before doing it again. Ukai sends the ball to the other side, tells them to serve, and even though it's six-on-two Kageyama and Hinata score, again and again and again. They haven't played together in months—a lifetime—but finding that space Kageyama's mind and body occupies when he plays with Hinata is easy. 

That much, at least, is easy.

"Okay," Ukai says after they take their seventh straight point, "maybe that's enough total defeat for now."

Kageyama sees Hinata glance across the net at the high schoolers, who are probably, at this point, fairly demoralized. He can't tear his eyes away from Hinata's profile long enough to check.

"Maybe we could try a scrimmage?" The voice is Sugawara's, and it's the first time Kageyama realizes Hinata isn't his only former teammate in the gym. There, along the sidelines, stand Sugawara, Daichi, and Nishinoya. Kageyama wonders how long they've been here.

"Excellent idea," Ukai says, grinning. "And for this round, I think we might want to split Kageyama and Hinata up."

"Excuse me," Kageyama says. He lowers his head and hurries off the court, wondering faintly if he's going to pass out, because his chest feels tight and his breath is coming too shallow, too fast. 

He's gasping by the time he reaches the bathroom, but cool water from the tap helps when he splashes it on his face and neck. After a minute or so, the black spots threatening to cloud his vision have mostly cleared.

Then Hinata throws open the door to the bathroom, and Kageyama is momentarily blinded anyway.

"Kageyama," Hinata says, stepping inside, letting the door swing shut behind him. "Are you okay?"

Kageyama, still bent over the sink, blinks against the drops of water falling from his hair into his eyes and wills himself not to stare. It's impossible, though, when he hasn't seen Hinata in so long, and so many things have changed; his shoulders have filled out more, and his face too, maybe because of all that American food. His hair is shaggier, almost long enough for a ponytail. His eyes are wide, like always, but unreadable; Kageyama doesn't remember ever being as clueless as to what's going on in Hinata's head.

"I'm fine," Kageyama says, tearing his gaze away at last, trying to shake some of the water off. "Just hot."

"Ah," Hinata says, his voice unreadable, too.

Kageyama stands up fully, wipes his hands on his pants, and clears his throat.

"Um," Hinata says, when Kageyama stays silent, "I . . . missed you. . . ."

The words hit him so unexpectedly, and so sharply, that Kageyama has to reach a hand out to steady himself on the sink. He can only blink in response.

"I mean, playing volleyball with you. And stuff," Hinata says, quickly. "And I—we're going to get dinner! Like, the whole team! Tonight! After practice! Will you come?"

It's many seconds before Kageyama registers that he's been asked a question. He nods.

"Okay," Hinata says. His face is brilliantly red. "Great. I'm gonna go help now."

He's out the door then, as suddenly as he came, leaving Kageyama to lean heavily against the sink and try desperately not to recall the last time he watched Hinata's back running away from him.

 

Their first year at university was, at least to Kageyama, close to perfect. They both landed sports scholarships at Yudai in Tokyo, which thankfully had a decent reputation for volleyball but didn't require test scores quite as high as some of the more prestigious places they looked at. He and Hinata distinguished themselves as a formidable pair on the court as quickly as they had at Karasuno, and when the season started they played in every single official match, winning most of them. They didn't end up taking nationals, but they had three more years to get the formula right. There was more time to focus on playing now; they weren't in class as much, and compared to high school, the attendance was lax and the homework was easy.

This all only made it feel like that much more of a betrayal when Hinata started talking about study abroad.

"Even just for a year, you know—I was talking to Coach and he said if we really want to go pro we'll have to speak some English, way better than we do now, and it'd look really good to scouts if we had some international experience—"

"Would we even be able to play volleyball during a study abroad?" Kageyama frowned, wrinkling his nose in distaste. 

"I don't think it's typical exactly, but if Coach talked to their coach—"

"I'm not going all the way across the world to not even play volleyball," Kageyama scoffed. "Anyway, you're terrible at English."

Hinata bristled. "That's why I'd be going, stupid! Anyway, so are you!"

"Which is why I'm staying in Japan."

At the time, he'd assumed Hinata would drop the idea after his refusal. It was only later that Kageyama realized this was because he, at least, could never have made the decision to leave Hinata and go somewhere so totally new and different all alone.

Hinata always was braver about things like that.

On Hinata's last night in the country, Kageyama did his best to avoid him even at his going away party. He sat as far from Hinata as possible in the izakaya and let himself continually get drawn into conversation with a chatty upperclassman he didn't normally care for. By midnight, most of the upperclassmen were drunk, and Kageyama's head was throbbing.

While their captain was slurring his way through the story about the time Hinata knocked over an entire basket of volleyballs at the spring qualifiers, Kageyama stood and excused himself, not sure where he was going exactly but in desperate need of escape. The restaurant was on the sixth floor, but he practically sprinted down the stairs and out the door on the ground level, slipping into the alley beside the building and leaning wearily against the wall. He felt weirdly panicky, but the rough scrape of the brick against his hands was grounding; he closed his eyes and let his fingers trace the uneven surface.

"Kageyama!" 

It couldn't have been more than a minute since Kageyama stepped outside, but already Hinata was there, silhouetted against the entrance to the alley, his head swiveling side to side.

"I'm here," Kageyama said. Hinata whirled, racing toward him, and Kageyama pushed away from the wall.

"I thought," Hinata stuttered, straining for breath, "you left."

Kageyama shook his head. It was hard to look at Hinata directly just then, so he looked up instead, focusing on the bright lights of a restaurant awning behind him.

"Kageyama," Hinata said again, with a touch of frustration coloring his voice. "I'll just be gone a year."

The word "just" carved its way into Kageyama's chest and sat there, heavy. "I know," he managed in response, feeling choked.

"I'll still practice hard," Hinata said. "Every day. And when I come back we'll play together again."

"I know."

The simple, repetitive answer seemed to be making Hinata mad; he stomped forward until they were almost chest-to-chest and tilted his chin up at Kageyama.

"I'm going because it's important! So we can really go pro!"

Kageyama had heard the same justifications a hundred times over by this point, and he was tired of them.

"Stop saying that," he snapped, surprising even himself with the amount of venom in his voice. "Just admit you want a year off to party in America. It's fine. I get it. I hope you have fun."

Hinata froze, and Kageyama couldn't help but look at him now, unnerved by the way the very air around him seemed to have gone still.

"You . . ." Hinata said, his voice hardly louder than a whisper. "I can't believe that's what you think of me." 

"I can't believe you'd just—" But Kageyama faltered, unable to find the words, his nails digging into his palms as he balled his hands into shaking fists. Everything was bubbling up and over, all the agonizing over the impending reality of a life without Hinata and what that meant, a semester's worth of dawning realizations tainted by fear and resentment, and it was too much.

 _"Dammit_ , Hinata," Kageyama said, his voice breaking, and he grabbed Hinata's shoulders and kissed him. 

Hinata's mouth tasted like the beer some upperclassman must have given him and his shoulders were rigid under Kageyama's hands. After only a few seconds, Kageyama pulled back, adrenaline rush fading slowly into something that tasted a lot more like fear. 

_Oh shit oh shit oh shit._ He released Hinata's shoulders and waited for him to open his eyes, to speak, to punch him, to do anything at all.

Then Hinata's eyes did open, and his eyebrows screwed up in absolute misery.

"Kageyama," Hinata said, but Kageyama didn't need to hear it. He took a step back and groaned, scrubbing his face in his hands.

Not a moment later, the voices of their teammates sounded from around the corner, calling Hinata's name.

"Kageyama," Hinata started again, but Kageyama shook his head, still hiding behind his hands.

"Please just go," he mumbled from between his palms.

When he finally let himself peek through his fingers, Hinata's back was disappearing down the alley, and then he was gone. 

 

For dinner, they go to a local okonomiyaki restaurant that Asahi works at, both so Asahi can join them when his shift ends and, apparently, so Nishinoya can harass him relentlessly for the cute raccoon apron he has to wear. Everyone shows up—Tanaka, Yamaguchi, Yachi, even Tsukishima and Shimizu. Cramped around the long table and kneeling on floor pillows, everyone laughing and talking about volleyball, it's almost possible to forget anything has changed since high school.

Except that he and Hinata have been sitting on the side-by-side pillows the rest of the team reserved for them stiffly and silently, shoulders not quite touching, since arriving.

"Hinata! Tell us about America!" Tanaka says. "How's your English?"

Hinata, kneeling at Kageyama's left, straightens up.

"Uh," he says, "better, I guess . . . but it's really hard. Everyone talks so fast!"

"What about volleyball?" Nishinoya asks eagerly. "Do they have a good team there?"

Now Hinata brightens, leaning forward and clutching the edge of the table. "They're really good! And really nice. They let me join even though I came late and they teach me stuff and help me with my English!"

"Sounds nice," Nishinoya says. "Are you sure you're gonna wanna come back?"

He means it as a joke, judging by the accompanying grin, but Kageyama doesn't laugh. Then again, neither does Hinata.

"Of course," Hinata says, in that odd, unexpectedly serious tone he gets sometimes. "Kageyama and I are gonna go pro."

Kageyama turns his head and finds Hinata is already watching him, his cheeks a little pink but his eyes steady. 

"Right?" he says.

Tsukishima's bark of laughter prevents Kageyama from answering. 

"God," he says, lip curling, every bit as smug as Kageyama remembers, "you haven't changed at all, have you?"

"Yeah," Sugawara agrees, before either Hinata or Kageyama can snarl a response. He reaches across the table to tousle Hinata's hair, beaming like a proud uncle. "It's nice."

The drinks arrive then, just in time to spare them from whatever snide retort Tsukishima was cooking up. While Asahi is distributing glasses of oolong and soda, Hinata leans in a little closer to Kageyama, until their shoulders finally do touch.

"Right?" he says again, less confident than before.

Kageyama's eyes are fixed steadfastly forward, but after a brief hesitation, he wraps his fingers around his tea and nods.

"Asahi! Where are the beers?" Tanaka demands, causing everyone to laugh at the look of horror that crosses Asahi's face.

"Tanaka! Not—not everyone is 20!" Asahi reprimands. 

"I'm 21," Shimizu says. "Can I get a Chu-Hi?"

The laughter turns so loud and uproarious after that that it's no use trying to focus on side conversations. Still, Kageyama wonders if it's his imagination that Hinata sits just a little closer for the rest of the meal.

At the end of the night, just as everyone is heading toward the train station, Hinata catches Kageyama's arm.

"Kageyama," he says. He ended up having a few drinks with Tanaka and Nishinoya, who ordered several as soon as Asahi was off shift, and now seems a little unsteady on his feet. Kageyama fights the instinct to put a guiding hand on his elbow. "I need to play with you again."

"I know," Kageyama sighs, but Hinata interrupts.

"No, I mean—now. Well. Not now. Soon. This week."

Kageyama swallows, grateful that Hinata's gaze isn't as sharp as usual so he can get away with staring down at the fingers curled around his forearm.

"I go back to Tokyo on Friday," he says.

"Thursday then," Hinata says. "Or anytime—you can check your schedule and message me. I have a Wi-Fi thing so my phone works." He squeezes Kageyama's arm tight before adding a soft, "Please?"

Kageyama is helpless. "Where?" he asks.

"Karasuno. They'll be gone at training camp."

Daichi, having noticed the two of them still lingering at the restaurant's front door, turns around and calls out, "Oi! You two coming?"

"Okay," Kageyama says. 

Hinata smiles and drops Kageyama's arm. "Coming!" he shouts, and he races to catch up with everyone else.

 

On Thursday, Hinata is waiting for Kageyama when he gets to the gym. They nod at one another in greeting, Kageyama takes his first step onto the court, and without a word of warning, Hinata throws.

Two-person training with Hinata has always gone the same: Hinata throws, Kageyama sets, Hinata spikes. It's pointless to try focusing on any other skills when it's just the two of them; they both get too antsy.

Kageyama lines it up, sets, and Hinata spikes it hard. It's a good one, clean, and far enough toward the back corner that someone might make the mistake of calling it out. 

"Nice," Kageyama says instinctively.

"Again!" Hinata throws a new ball. This one is in a less ideal location, so Kageyama has to work hard to line it up in time, but he does it. Hinata hits it to almost the exact same spot as before. He whirls around, wearing the expression of a proud kid— _Did you see that? Did you?_ —and grins at Kageyama's raised eyebrow.

"My accuracy is getting a lot better, right?"

He can feel his face go instantly red, so Kageyama quickly turns away. "Not bad," he concedes.

Hinata jogs back to the basket and retrieves another ball. "Kevin is helping me a lot with that kind of stuff."

He throws the ball too fast for Kageyama to respond, but as soon as it's been soundly sent over the net, Kageyama drops his arms.

"Kevin?" he says.

"He's our captain!" Hinata had been already preparing to throw another ball, but, reading Kageyama's body language, he just holds it to his chest instead. "He's a setter, too. He's really good—his team won nationals when he was in high school!"

Kageyama doesn't say anything, but when he still makes no move to get ready, Hinata cocks his head.

"What?" he asks.

"What," Kageyama repeats.

"You're scowling," says Hinata.

"Just throw the ball."

But when Hinata throws, Kageyama's body moves without his permission, not into a toss position, but a spike. It hadn't been a great set-up, so when he hits it over it skims the net, but even so, it slams off the opposite court so hard that it flies all the way up to the walkway above and gets lodged in the railing. 

They're quiet for a while after that, both staring at the ball, although Kageyama's breathing sounds extra loud to his ears, like it's echoing all around the gym.

"Um," says Hinata at length, "what was—"

"Sorry." Kageyama swipes his arm across his forehead and bends down to pick up one of their earlier balls that rolled onto his side of the court. "Here." He throws the ball to Hinata, who catches it, but otherwise doesn't move at all.

"You're mad," Hinata says.

"Why would I be mad?" Kageyama says. 

"Because I talked about Kevin."

Even though Hinata isn't wrong, hearing him say it just like that sets Kageyama's blood on fire.

"Why would I be mad," he snarls, "just because you can't stop talking about how great America is and how perfect your volleyball team is there and how much better your setter is now?"

Hinata's mouth falls open, and his eyebrows knit together in such obvious horror that Kageyama is instantly overcome with shame.

"Nevermind," he mutters, "just—forget I—"

"But it's not better!" Hinata's voice is loud but unsteady. He sounds on the verge of tears, which startles Kageyama enough that he takes a step forward, but halts when Hinata keeps talking. 

"Kevin's good, but he's not half as good as you, Kageyama! If he tried for 100 years he'd never be as good as you! And Chicago is—it's good for some things, but it's nothing like Tokyo, and playing with them is nothing like playing with you, and even on the good days I spend half the time thinking about how much I miss Japan and Yudai and—and everybody, and staying there the hardest thing I've ever done!" 

Hinata's eyes are definitely shining now. He wipes his face furiously on his sleeve while Kageyama dutifully looks away.

"I almost came home _three times_ this semester," Hinata says, more quietly now. "I looked up plane tickets and started packing and everything."

"I'm—sorry," Kageyama says. 

Hinata sniffs, then drops the volleyball and shuffles over to the gym mats, on which his bag and water bottle are resting. Kageyama follows.

They both slump down to the floor, backs resting against the mats, and avoid looking at each other. When the silence has grown oppressive enough that Kageyama feels like he might suffocate, he finally forces his mouth to open.

"I think. It's really brave," he says, haltingly, wishing he had his towel so he could hide his face under it. "That you went. All the way over there. Alone."

He can feel Hinata's eyes on him, but won't let himself meet them.

"Thanks," Hinata says. 

For a long time after that, they don't move or speak. Hinata still sniffs every once in a while, and sometimes he'll tug at his shoelaces or Kageyama will pick at a loose thread on his shorts. But it's comfortable, finally, the most comfortable Kageyama has been next to Hinata—even just _thinking_ about Hinata—in a very long time, and that's promising.

Hinata lifts his water bottle, and Kageyama sneaks a sideways glance as he drinks from it, hating himself for following the line of his throat as he swallows.

"Kageyama," Hinata says, causing Kageyama's eyes to dart upward guiltily. "I wanted to talk about—um—last time—"

There's only one "last time" Hinata could be referring to, and the mere thought of reliving it makes dread rise up in Kageyama's throat.

"Don't—it's fine," he says, tripping over his words. "You don't have to say anything, I won't—it's not gonna be a problem."

"No, I know, but I—"

Kageyama can't hear it—he thinks he might actually be sick—so he scrambles up the mats and lurches forward, grabbing a ball out of the cart.

"They'll probably close the gym soon. We should get in as much playing as we can."

It's with a resigned sigh that Hinata says "Okay," but he rises and joins Kageyama on the court and doesn't bring it up again. After enough tosses that he's lost count, Kageyama thinks maybe they've both come very close to forgetting.

When they say their sweaty goodbyes afterward, it feels warm and friendly. Still, Kageyama can't shake the knowledge that this is the start of another six miserable months. He tries to convince himself it'll all be okay—maybe now that they've talked and found some resolution that fever that overtakes him anytime Hinata is around might even start to clear up. But six months is a long time to lie to yourself, and even if Kageyama has gotten used to it, he's not sure he's gotten any better.

 

At 12:40 p.m. on Sunday afternoon, Kageyama stares at his phone and thinks about the airport. By the fastest train, it's only about forty minutes from his apartment. He went there once with the Yudai volleyball team for a competition, and Hinata stayed at his place overnight so they could get up later and travel together.

He's as close to Hinata as he's going to be for half a year right now. 

Kageyama sets his phone on his bedside table, closes his eyes, and lies face-down on his mattress.

Maybe he dozes off, or maybe he just slips into a trance, but in what seems like no time at all, Kageyama's phone vibrates and he lifts his head to discover it's 2:15. Hinata's plane took off more than an hour ago. His chest feels like it's made of lead.

Then he unlocks his phone, and the name alongside his unread message reads _Hinata_.

 _My flight's canceled. I'm coming over_ is all it says, without any explanation or even final punctuation.

" _What?_ " Kageyama says, out loud, sitting bolt-upright at the same time his phone starts to buzz with an incoming call.

" _What?_ " Kageyama says again.

"It's okay, right?" Hinata says.

"It's—yeah, of course, but—"

"Good." He really does sound relieved, his deep exhale making the phone crackle in Kageyama's ear. "The train's coming, I have to go, I'll see you soon."

And he just hangs up, leaving Kageyama with nothing to do but pace in desperate circles in front of his bed for forty minutes.

At 2:59, his phone starts buzzing again.

"I forget which apartment number," comes Hinata's voice, breathless; he's running.

For some reason, this knowledge makes Kageyama feel lightheaded. "202," he says.

"Five minutes," Hinata says before hanging up, but he's knocking on the door in four.

"It was open." Kageyama holds the door but presses himself back against the wall to allow Hinata room to enter. It's even more impressive that he got here so fast when Kageyama realizes, of course, he was also carrying luggage.

Hinata kicks off his shoes and drops his bag. He's panting, staring directly at Kageyama, and they're both still standing in the tiny, crowded genkan, which doesn't even nearly accommodate two people.

"I'll—" Kageyama can't finish, doesn't have words for any of this, but he lifts Hinata's bag and turns, leading the way slowly toward his room to drop it at the foot of his bed. 

His apartment has always been tiny—just one room, a slightly raised bed with some storage underneath, a desk barely big enough for a laptop, one sink and a burner crammed in the entryway—but now, with Hinata inside, it's almost oppressively small. He turns around.

"Do you want—water?" Kageyama asks.

Sucking in a visible, shuddering breath, Hinata replies, "I want to talk about the night you kissed me."

The backs of Kageyama's knees hit the edge of his desk, and he sits on it heavily.

"I—" Hinata falters and starts to wring his hands, frowning down at them. "Last year was my favorite time in my whole life." 

He glances up, eyebrows raised as if surprised by his own words. Kageyama's are raised, too; it wasn't the intro he was expecting.

"But then after I—after I applied at Chicago, it was weird. You were weird, and I probably was too, and things weren't right, and it was really confusing, and I . . . didn't know what to do about it. And I didn't know why. I mean, I _thought_ I knew why, but I didn't actually."

"Hinata. . . ?" Kageyama says, slowly. He's completely lost.

"Sorry!" Hinata says. He continues in a rush, "It's just—first I was sad, and then I was kind of mad, and then it was my party and you weren't even _talking_ to me, and then we were in the alley and when it happened I—I couldn't even believe it! I just couldn't—" 

Kageyama flinches. Maybe Hinata can sense how painful this is for him, because he starts talking even faster.

"But I think," Hinata says, "I think you thought I was—mad, or something, but I wasn't, Kageyama! I wasn't mad, and I—" He pauses to suck in another deep breath, but finishes boldly, "I want to do it again."

It's like being hit in the back of the head with a volleyball.

"You were so upset," Kageyama says, disbelieving, his throat raw. "Your face."

"Because I was leaving the next morning!" Hinata gasps. "Because you had to wait to do it until my _last night_!"

He still can't quite accept that everything he's been agonizing over for a semester has been a misunderstanding, so Kageyama keeps pushing.

"You left," he says.

"You told me to!" Hinata says. "And the other guys were there! And—and I was still kinda confused!"

His voice is starting to sound unsteady again, just like in the gym. Carefully, Kageyama eases his way off the desk.

"But now I get it," Hinata says. "And—I hope you still like me, because I like you." He pauses briefly before adding, "And my flight didn't actually get canceled. I just didn't get on it."

Kageyama's breath catches. Hinata lifts his head with a flash of something like defiance, as if daring Kageyama to turn him down—as if doing so were even a possibility—and every last bit of resolve Kageyama was still clinging to slips from his grasp.

He takes a single step forward. It brings them close enough that he can grab Hinata, pulling him in with such surprising force that Hinata's breath lets out in a gust against Kageyama's shoulder. Kageyama drags a hand up the back of Hinata's neck, curling into his hair, and uses the other hand to try to bring them even closer, clutching at Hinata's shoulder blade.

"God, Hinata," Kageyama breathes, everything flooding out, his cheek pressed to Hinata's temple. His heart is beating so fast that it feels a lot like fear, and still the urge to push Hinata away and bolt is pressing, but stronger than that is an unfamiliar, creeping sense of joy.

Hinata's hands move slowly, encircling Kageyama's waist and sliding up his back. He turns his head until his mouth is on Kageyama's neck, lips parted, breath hot.

"Kageyama," Hinata says. The ghost of his own name on his skin causes a shudder to run from Kageyama's neck up and down his spine, spreading in every direction. "You're shaking."

"I'm not," Kageyama growls, but then Hinata's hands twist in the fabric of his shirt, and Hinata's mouth starts to suck at the side of his neck, and he is, he really is.

"Ah—" Kageyama is helpless, unable to stay quiet or even upright. He stumbles backward, running into his desk for the second time that day, allowing Hinata push him onto it. It's so small that all his pens and books fall to the floor and his back immediately hits the wall, but Hinata is unconcerned. 

"Kiss me," Hinata demands, climbing halfway into Kageyama's lap, as much as the desk will allow. His thigh is in between Kageyama's legs and his hands are everywhere, traveling up Kageyama's sides, then over his chest, his neck.

Kageyama takes Hinata's face in his hands, fiercely, and obeys. He's never done this with anyone else, but despite all his apprehension, somehow it's easy. Hinata gasps into his mouth and rocks against him, sucking at Kageyama's lips, and all Kageyama has to do is follow. He moans when Hinata licks his way inside and Hinata echoes him, pressing closer even though there's no space left between them.

"I want," Hinata pants, blinking up at Kageyama with clouded eyes even as he grinds his thigh against Kageyama's crotch. "I want—"

Kageyama nods, dizzy but understanding, and Hinata somehow manages to hitch himself even higher on Kageyama's lap. One of Kageyama's legs falls to the side and he has to brace it against the floor, dangerously unsteady. Meanwhile, Hinata is fully straddling his other thigh, and he begins rocking harder now, but slow, his eyes on Kageyama, careful to make it clear just how hard he is.

 _"Fuck,"_ Kageyama hisses. 

"Say my name," Hinata says.

"Hinata—"

 _"No,"_ Hinata interrupts. One of his hands drops in between them and cups the outline of Kageyama's dick through his shorts.

 _"Shouyou,"_ Kageyama gasps. And then again, when Hinata moans and slips a hand inside Kageyama's pants, and again when he starts to jerk him off. "Shouyou—fuck, Shouyou—"

Without even thinking about what he's doing, Kageyama follows suit, dropping his hands to Hinata's waist and working his fly open so he can pull his pants down, just past his hips. Hinata is so hard and he feels so hot in Kageyama's hand, but not as hot as the sound Hinata makes at his touch, throaty and desperate. His grip around Kageyama gets a little unsteady for a moment, but before too long they both find a compatible rhythm. Kageyama's head falls back and hits the wall, hard, and Hinata uses the opportunity to suck again at his exposed neck. 

"Ah—" Kageyama bites his own lip, but it does nothing to keep him quiet. The feel of Hinata's hand on his cock and his mouth trailing down to his collarbones is over-stimulating, so much so that Kageyama is taken utterly by surprise when his orgasm hits him. He's never felt anything like it; he's gasping for breath, his body and limbs completely outside his awareness, every nerve trembling as he tenses up more and more before going impossibly still.

Hinata doesn't stop stroking him immediately when he comes, just slows down, easing him through it. When Kageyama can finally muster enough strength to lift his head, he opens his eyes to find Hinata's locked on him.

"Tobio," Hinata says, almost a whine. "Please—"

Kageyama drags Hinata in by the hips with a burst of blind energy and returns his attention to jerking him off. He kisses up the side of Hinata's neck, delighted to feel him gasp and shudder, and works his way over to his mouth. Hinata comes just as Kageyama begins to suck at his tongue, but they don't stop kissing, even when he cries out. 

For a while, Kageyama can do nothing but kiss Hinata slowly and sneak covert glances at his face, reveling in the sight of his flushed cheeks and pale eyelashes. He's nervous, in spite of everything, when Hinata eventually opens his eyes, but even as they pull back, he doesn't look away. Hinata considers him, eyes still unfocused, before lifting one hand—thankfully, the less sticky one—to Kageyama's forehead and brushing aside his sweaty hair.

"I—" Hinata starts, but he looks flustered suddenly and falters. "I need a tissue," he finishes at last.

"I'm in love with you," Kageyama blurts.

They stare at each other, breathing hard, while Kageyama feels the blood rise up his neck to his ears. For one horrible second, he thinks he can feel the panic setting in again. But then—

Both Hinata's hands cup his face, completely regardless of stickiness, and he kisses Kageyama like he can't help himself, like he doesn't care if their lips end up bruised. Kageyama wraps his arms around Hinata's back—also regardless of stickiness—and kisses him back. 

 

They're quiet on the train ride to the airport. Kageyama doesn't know what to say, and maybe Hinata doesn't either. Realistically, Kageyama knew Hinata would still be going back to the U.S. even if he did miss his original flight, but it was easy to ignore the night before, with Hinata curled against him in bed, their hands on each other's skin. Today, Kageyama is feeling faintly sick again. 

A few minutes into the ride, Hinata leans his head on Kageyama's shoulder and carefully, cautiously, takes his hand. There are a dozen other people in their train car. Kageyama should be embarrassed, but he isn't. He rests his head on Hinata's, closes his eyes, and doesn't feel quite so sick.

It's already 1:45 by the time they reach the first passenger check-in gate—late enough that Hinata shouldn't waste any time going through—but still, Hinata and Kageyama stand off to the side, not quite looking at each other, neither willing to speak first.

He has things to say—lots of things, in fact—but all the words keep catching in Kageyama's throat, choking him anytime he tries to force them out. 

"Um," Hinata starts, but he falls quiet then, too, maybe having the same problem. Another long, painful pause follows, until Kageyama can't stand it anymore.

"You should. Call me or something. When you get in," he says, which wasn't high on the list of words he was trying to produce, but it's a start.

They finally look directly at each other, and the bottom of Kageyama's stomach drops out when he sees tears already spilling from Hinata's eyes. Before he can work out how to properly react, Hinata's arms are around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

There are people everywhere, and the hug is way too close, way too intimate, but Kageyama doesn't care. He holds Hinata's head against his shoulder and presses his mouth to his hair and focuses very hard on breathing.

"I'll miss you," Hinata says, voice muffled into Kageyama's shirt.

"I—me too," Kageyama says.

"You have to text me," Hinata says, sounding a little strained. "You have to actually use your _phone_ —"

"I know," Kageyama cuts him off, fingers curling in Hinata's hair, "I will."

"Maybe—maybe you can come to America and see me this semester," Hinata says.

"Yeah. Maybe."

"And I'll be back for New Year's," Hinata adds.

"Yeah."

Hinata makes a sad, strangled noise and squeezes Kageyama even tighter. From the corner of his eye, Kageyama can see passersby occasionally giving them a strange look. He responds by running a hand up and down Hinata's back.

"Okay," Hinata says, after what feels like both too long and not long enough. He pulls back. "Okay."

Kageyama nods, because he can't do anything else. He steps back, picks up Hinata's bag for him, and walks him to the gate entrance.

Hinata goes through the whole line without looking back, which might have something to do with the fact that he keeps wiping his face on his shirt. A part of Kageyama doesn't want to watch, but as always, he can't help himself. Then, after getting his passport checked, just before stepping inside and out of view, Hinata turns around, smiles, and waves.

It's enough, Kageyama thinks, waving back. For now, it's enough.

He feels full and empty at the same time as he makes his way back to the station. It seems impossible that he can survive the whole train ride without Hinata there—not without making a public scene of himself, anyway—so Kageyama does his best to distract himself, trying to mentally calculate how many days he has off this semester and how much a ticket to the U.S. actually costs. Just as he finds a seat on the train and pulls out his phone to check the calendar, it buzzes with a new message. 

_Made it to my gate. I miss you. I'm in love with you too,_ it says.

Kageyama puts his phone down, too embarrassed to keep looking at the screen. He buries his face in his hands, burning up, and smiles the entire way home.


End file.
